Never Look Back
by Nynaeve Al'Meara
Summary: Colonel Hans Landa has his hands full with spies, terrorists, and a mysterious blond who intrudes on his own well-established notion that he has no room in his life for anyone but himself.
1. Chapter 1

The characters of Colonel/Standartenfuehrer Hans Landa and Lieutenant Aldo Raine are the property of Quentin Tarantino. Angelika Lorenz and the supporting characters are my own creations.

My story begins in pre-Basterds Germany. This is before Colonel Hans Landa is transferred to France to become the infamous 'Jew Hunter' and before Lt. Aldo Raine forms the Basterds. Ranks of German officers throughout my story may be confusing to some, but for consistency, I have retained their use throughout. The internet can provide you with equivalent ranks in other military organizations. While we are on the subject of German words, bear with me when I write German phrases. I cannot guarantee their accuracy. Hopefully, the core meaning of what I'm trying to say will make sense.

I know where I am going with my story and I have already written the last chapter. It is most of the chapters in between that I haven't written yet. Although certain plot points must be included in these chapters, they will generally flow where they will as I write them. Sometimes, I surprise myself with the direction I take.

Regarding sexual content. There will be some eventually; however, I am not as adept at writing it as many of you are. I will probably not be as graphic.

Feedback will be appreciated! It is my first fan fiction, so be gentle.

_**A Proposition – Prologue**_

_Berlin,__ some__ time in 1940_

The prisoner sat with his arms tied behind the chair, glaring balefully at the man sitting across the table from him. His clothing was in dishabille, his open white shirt stained with sweat and blood. Damp, greasy brown hair framed a bruised and battered face. For 9 hours, he had been brutally beaten and questioned by the Gestapo, but managed to reveal nothing. It was a wonder he had the stamina to hold his head up. The new interrogator, impeccably dressed in a fresh gray, heavily decorated SS uniform; shiny black boots; and eagle adorned hat with a skull and crossbones was, in turn, a stark contrast.

Both were colonels in the German military.

"Why, Martin, it's been a long time, hasn't it? How have you been?" asked the affable SS Standartenfuehrer. He seemed genuinely pleased to see his old acquaintance.

Martin Leeb didn't answer him, but continued to stare.

"It seems you may have gotten yourself in a bit of a pickle recently."

Still an answer of silence.

"Oh, come now, Martin. You have nothing to say?"

"What of it, Hans?" was Leeb's acid response. "As the Fuehrer's lapdog you should know everything already."

The SS officer chuckled, "Then I needn't be here at all, is that it?"

"You will get nothing useful out of me. I've done nothing wrong."

"Yes, of course," was the patronizing reply.

"My reputation in the Wehrmacht is impeccable, my record exemplary!" shouted the prisoner, spit flying from his lips.

Hans Landa smiled. Oozing confidence, though some would call it arrogance, he set his briefcase on the table, opened it, and took out some papers. The smile became a lopsided smirk as he set the papers down neatly in front of him, all the while staring at the unfortunate man across the table.

"Actually, I'm here to help you," said Landa. "The Gestapo's methods are, shall we say, not very subtle, but they are effective. Given more time, I believe they would get the information they need from you. You, on the other hand, will have suffered a long, agonizing ordeal for nothing. Such a tragedy."

Landa leaned forward, crossed his arms on the table in front of him, and let his voice take on a low, conspiratorial tone.

"I'm here to make a deal."

There was a moment's silence.

"What kind of deal?" asked the Wehrmacht Oberst, who felt both a grain of hope and a mountain of suspicion.

"We'll get to that, shortly," said Landa. "You have a family, do you not?"

"I think you already know…"

"Just answer the question."

Landa had grown serious, causing Leeb to squirm in his chair.

"Yes."

"What are their names?"

Leeb hesitated.

"There's my wife, Marta, my son, Erich, and my daughter, Anna."

"Ah, yes. Your beautiful wife, Marta. She is a lovely woman and a good mother, if I recall. I remember meeting her last year at the summer Heissmeyer gala. It must be nice to come home to a good wife who loves you so dearly."

Landa paused for effect, then continued, "Your two children, Erich and Anna, how old are they now?"

Leeb gave the Standartenfuehrer a poisonous look. What was he up to?

"Erich will be17 in January and Anna will be 15 next May," he growled.

"Well, it seems your children are going to be fine young adults in no time. I hear Anna is already an accomplished piano player. Perhaps, if she gets a chance, she will play for me soon."

Leeb gritted his teeth. He didn't like where this was going.

"What's your point?" he demanded.

Landa ignored him and looked down at the papers before him. He continued, "I've been looking at the charges against you, Oberst. My, my, if I am to believe these reports, I would have to say that you certainly have been busy: conspiring against the Third Reich, collaborating with foreign spies, plotting an assassination of our Fuehrer, participating in said assassination attempt…"

Landa trailed off, shrugged his shoulders, then looked up at Leeb with raised eyebrows.

"Certainly you have something to say for yourself," said Landa.

"Sure I do. Those are all lies! All of it!"

"The two men we captured immediately after you say differently … let's see," Landa gazed down at his papers again, "their ranks and names are Unteroffizier Paul Schulz and Oberleutnant Friedrich Michler. They were both very cooperative in this investigation and I have no reason to doubt their confessions."

Upon hearing the names of his compatriots, Leeb lost all hope. So Schulz and Michler had been caught and already confessed. At least there was some comfort in knowing they didn't have the names of the other officers involved. They also were not included in the other activities of his small rebel group, so they could not reveal any more information. Hitler had to be stopped before he ruined Germany, that is all there was to it. The free rebels would continue their fight to have the man killed once and for all. Despite his _own_ failure, he thought miserably.

Landa's face was impassive as he saw Leeb bow his head at this news. He watched him in silence for a few moments before he spoke again in a more clipped tone.

"We need names, Oberst. We need the names of your other co-conspirators. We also need to know how you acquired the logistical intelligence of the Fuehrer's whereabouts for that day, how you communicate with foreign agents, and what other unwelcome events you may have planned to undermine the regime."

"Go to hell," Leeb snarled.

Landa smiled and blinked reassuringly at his old acquaintance. People under such duress are so damn predictable, he thought. Then his smile faded again and his voice became hard.

"Not today, my friend," he said. "Here's my deal: You are going to tell me everything I want to know. You are going to tell me everything I want to know, or we'll bring Marta, and Erich, and darling little Anna here to this dreary Gestapo headquarters. Then we will line them up so that you can watch them die, one by one, by firing squad until you talk. After that, you will be put into the gentle hands of the Gestapo once again so they may help you remember the things we want to know."

Landa continued in a softer voice, "IF, on the other hand, you tell me everything now and save us all the trouble, your family will be spared. You will also be spared further torture. However, there is one caveat."

At this point, he reached into his briefcase once again and pulled out a revolver.

"There is one bullet in this gun. After we have finished with your questioning, I will leave it with you. It is up to you to decide what to do with it."

Leeb's face by this time had drained of all color and tears streaked down his cheeks. His whole body shook violently. Without question, he would save his family and pray that God would not judge him too harshly for forsaking his nation. The lives lost in this war would be catastrophic.

"I need a glass of water," said Leeb, finally. "And a cigarette, if you can spare one."

"Yes, of course."

Landa called in a guard to release the prisoner's hands and to go fetch a glass of water. He offered the prisoner a cigarette and a light, then lit one for himself. He puffed on his cigarette, savoring his feeling of triumph. Everyone has a weakness, a breaking point, he thought, it just takes a little bit of effort to find it and exploit it. He was never afraid to do that.

He was fully aware of why Colonel Leeb did what he did. The fool was an idealist who betrayed his country for some ridiculous cause. War was inevitable, whether caused by Hitler or some other psychopath bent on destruction. Germany was ripe for such leaders after suffering a humiliating loss in the last world war. The important thing was to determine how best to survive the tumult and come out ahead.

Landa's indifference toward the Nazi Party and Hitler did not prevent him from dedicating himself to their cause. After all, they provided him power and the opportunity to do what he loved the most – investigate, solve problems, discover hidden truths. The torture, the killing wasn't particularly appealing, merely necessary. His conscience may even have been nudged a bit when he thought of the possibility of killing Leeb's family. But just a bit. It was a means to an end.

The guard came back with the glass of water, interrupting the SS officer's reverie. He watched with patience as Leeb finished his cigarette and drank all his water. The man's hands shook so hard, Landa thought he'd drop the glass.

"Are we ready to begin?" he asked when the prisoner set the glass down.

With a nod, Oberst Martin Leeb proceeded to give SS Standartenfuehrer Hans Landa all the information he knew. When they were through, Landa quietly set the revolver down in front of Leeb. He then set his papers back into his briefcase, closed it, and stood up.

"Your cooperation will prove most useful in my investigation. I bid you farewell," said Landa. The prisoner said nothing, but sat in defeat, staring at the gun.

Landa left the room and walked down the hallway toward the building exit. Within minutes, a single gunshot rang out through the corridors. The SS Colonel heard it, but didn't break his stride. This phase of his investigation was over and he no longer had feelings regarding what had just transpired.

After all, Landa despised traitors and Leeb got what he deserved.


	2. Chapter 2

Finally, here is the second chapter. We meet some new characters and an old friend. This chapter has a lot of information in it, yet it should be entertaining to read, as well. My chapters should come a little quicker now that my personal life has loosened up a little. Please enjoy and as always, feedback is appreciated!

**Chapter 2 The Agency**

_December 13, 1940_

Angelika Lorenz bounded from the bus stop and ran across the busy Washington DC thoroughfare. She held onto her knit cap as she jumped onto the sidewalk and bucked a tide of people, pushing her way as quickly as possible to the office where she worked. The snow from the previous night made roads and sidewalks slippery, but she did not heed caution as she struggled to get to work on time. At last, she reached the revolving door to her employer's building and pushed her way in. She was nearly frozen from the early winter chill.

For three months, Angelika worked part-time as an administrative assistant for United Intelligence Services, a civilian agency that sets up contracts with the United States government to gather foreign and domestic intelligence. They employ former military personnel and FBI special agents for their missions. She didn't make a lot of money at her job, but her salary paid the bills and she knew she was lucky to be working in such difficult economic times. She even managed to put some money away in order to finish her nurse's training at Georgetown University Hospital where she was one class away from graduation. That class would have to wait while she took care of her mother and waited for a full-time job at the hospital as a nursing intern.

Luck favored her with an open elevator, which took her to the fifth floor offices. After a quick trot down a short hallway and past the agency receptionist, she entered a large workroom filled with support staff, couriers, and a handful of agents. A quick, furtive glance around showed no evidence of detection, so she hurried over to the coat rack in the corner where she busied herself with removing her plain, dark woolen coat, hat, and gloves. She hoped she looked inconspicuous. A brief glance at the large wall clock across the room confirmed her fears. She was nearly 5 minutes late.

She quickly surveyed the private offices and conference rooms at the far side of the main room, looking for her boss, Jake Forbes. The man was a beast as it was, but if he saw that you were late, he could be outright diabolical. She tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as she made her way to her desk, a desk in a rank and file of desks filled with busy typists. The clackity-clack sound of the typewriters filled the air, which smelled faintly of ink.

"You're LATE Lorenz."

Angelika froze for a moment at the sound of that booming voice before she slowly sank into the chair behind her desk. In moments, Mr. Forbes seemed to materialize out of thin air behind her and she braced herself for the verbal assault that was about to ensue.

"That's the second time in two months. Two months! I will not tolerate tardiness in this office. I will not! Soon, everyone will come in 5 minutes late, then it will be 10 minutes, then 15, and what will we have then? Chaos, lack of productivity, low morale. I will have discipline! I will have punctuality! Do you hear me?"

How could she not, she thought dismally. His voice rose in pitch and volume with each sentence until the last four words were a shout. Activity in the office had stopped and everyone stared at the two of them. Banishing the urge to slide under her desk in humiliation, Angelika shoved her chair back and stood to face her tormentor, who had moved his enormous bulk to one side just in time to avoid being run over. Enough was enough, she thought. Her demure personality was notorious for changing in the face of unwarranted abuse and as a result, she often made unwise decisions. She had acid on her tongue and it was time to tell this self-important bureaucrat what he could do with his clock. She opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off by another voice across the room, a voice that belonged to a man in an army lieutenant's uniform.

"Now Jake, don' you think yer bein' hard on the little lady? Stop wastin' time and get over to that conference room yonder. We got important matters to discuss and yer over there brow-beatin' some pretty young employee."

"Yes, Mr. Forbes, you've kept us waiting now for at least five minutes," said Assistant Director of Operations, Agent Mike Bentson. Two lower ranking agents, Mark Dexter and Jonathan Franks, both of whom were close to Bentson and rarely seen apart from him, stood to either side of the Asst. Director. They were as aloof as stone statues.

By this time, Mr. Forbes' round face had taken on a purplish cast and judging by the extent his porcine eyes were bulging from their sockets, he looked ready to explode. Angelika knew she hadn't heard the last of his tirade.

"I'll be right with you, Assistant Director, Lt. Raine," he said evenly. Then, casting a baleful eye at Angelika, he hissed, "I'll see you after my meeting."

With that last threat, he turned around and headed for the conference room with the others. Angelika closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Maria Castellano, a friend and coworker at the desk next to hers, looked at her with sympathy.

"Maybe he'll calm down by then," she said. "Here, have a seat before you collapse. You look awful."

"Don't bet on it," answered Angelika sullenly. "He's probably going to dock my pay. Worse, if not for that handsome southern gentleman, I would have said something that would have gotten me fired.

"And wait a minute; what do you mean I 'look awful'?"

"You look white as a ghost, Angel, like you hadn't slept last night, and your hair's a mess."

"The hair," she said absently, "oh, I didn't have time to tidy it up before I walked into the office and the lack of sleep was caused by one William Madden."

"Ah, I see," said Maria. "This William Madden was your date last night? The one you weren't excited about? It must have gone better than you thought it would! Tell me all the details."

"No, it didn't go well. The guy had no class. He was rude and boorish and he dressed like a slob. It was our first date and as soon as dinner was over, he was all over me in his car. When I wasn't cooperating, he got angry and left me at the curb. I had to walk 16 blocks in the snow to get home."

"How awful! What a total jerk. You should have found a telephone and called me. I would have had Lou come pick you up."

"Aw, no, Maria, your husband has to be to work so early. I didn't want to bother you two."

"It wouldn't have been a bother, Angel, you should know that. This was an emergency."

Angelika paused thoughtfully for a moment. Her most recent run-in with her boss dominated her mind. "Thanks, Maria. Not that I want to change the subject or anything, but did you notice the cold stare that Assistant Director Bentson gave me? There's something not right about him. He gives me the creeps. You know, _he_ could decide to fire me."

"Are you kidding me? You were late by only 5 minutes! Not even 5 minutes! And as far as Mr. Asst. Director, I wouldn't worry. He probably doesn't know our names much less anything about us. He doesn't involve himself with administrative staff; he's too cold and too arrogant."

"So are his lackeys, Dexter and Franks," said Angelika. "Those two used to work for the FBI, I understand, but they look and act like a couple of goons."

"They are goons," said Maria. "Rumor has it they worked undercover for the FBI as Al Capone's muscle during Prohibition."

"Hah, rumors. Rumors seem to start with a grain of truth, then after that, it's anybody's guess." Angelika placed a piece of paper between the rollers of her typewriter, adding, "I wouldn't be surprised if you were right, though."

Maria put her elbows on her desk and rested her chin on interlaced fingers. Angelika wondered how she managed to do that and chew her gum at the same time.

"Couldn't you just picture those two beating up some poor shmoe for not paying a debt, then boss Bentson whacks him?" Maria mused.

Angelika idly fingered the pendants of the two necklaces she always wore and smiled wryly at her friend. Where Maria lived, this kind of activity happened on occasion and according to Maria, her husband had to pay a certain percentage of his earnings as a grocery store owner to certain people for "protection". Gangsters ran their neighborhood.

"Somehow, it is not hard to imagine," Angelika said as she continued organizing her desk for the day's work, a day that was already shaping up gloriously.

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In the summer of 1941, the UIS would join other agencies that would become the office of the Coordinator of Information, or COI. The COI was a civilian intelligence agency of the United States Government founded by President Franklin D. Roosevelt prior to U.S. involvement in the Second World War. It was intended to overcome the lack of coordination between existing agencies, which often worked against each other. Eventually, even the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) and the Military Intelligence Division (MID) of the War Department would join together under the direction of the COI, which in 1942 would officially become the Office of Strategic Services or OSS. That was all in the future. In present day December of 1940, however, the U.S. government's intelligence establishment was primeval, much to the concern and derision of their British friends.

Thanks to the British, however, the U.S. woke up to the importance of clandestine operations. Thanks to the British, President Roosevelt was spurred into action. At this time, he allowed consultants and advisors from the British Secret Intelligence Service, or MI6, to assist the U.S. government in developing rudimentary spy agencies while sending prospective agents to England to be trained by the Special Operations Executive. The need was so great in such a short time that training was minimal and U.S. agents with diverse backgrounds and education had to be used to gather information on German war efforts. In particular, they were to learn about the inner workings of the Third Reich that included strategic information as well Intel on military leaders. Biographical information, political leanings, and reputations were all important.

For these tasks, it was paramount that agents had foreign language skills. Yet, finding such agents was proving difficult. At the moment, agencies such as the UIS, MID, and ONI were forced into recruiting local sympathizers, which was often risky. Army Lieutenant and Unconventional Warfare Specialist Aldo Raine wanted to avoid that hassle.

Lt. Raine was sent by the Military Intelligence Division of the War Department to the UIS to discuss the latest mission involving the infiltration of Germany's intelligence community. The army wanted to gather enough information to formulate a Who's Who of top Nazi's in the Third Reich. The United States was not involved in Europe's war just yet, but President Roosevelt knew his country was headed there eventually and he wanted to have some degree of preparation underway.

"Dammit, Jonathan, I didn' ask you if you liked the plan or not," said Aldo in his characteristic Tennessee drawl. This meeting had dragged on forever with discussion of feasibility. Such discussion was pointless. "First off, we have orders to carry it through from the President himself. End of discussion. Second, we need to find the right person for the job. Now I don' speak no German and I'm definitely not a woman, or I'd be glad to go. So we're gonna hafta find someone from yer agency."

Aldo leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at them, waiting for a response. He wanted to be elsewhere, training men, blowing up bridges, assassinating the bad guys. Being in an office with a bunch of white shirts was not what he signed up for when he joined the army and he would love to teach these idiots what combat and survival behind enemy lines really meant. The men at the table merely cleared their throats and looked at each other, except for Forbes, who looked like he had fallen asleep. Swell. Finally, Asst. Director Bentson spoke.

"The bottom line here, Lieutenant, is that we don't exactly have a pool of German speaking agents, fully trained, and ready to infiltrate Germany," he said. "This kind of thing takes time."

"I'z afraid ya'd say that. Well, how 'bout any female German speakin' agents _without_ trainin'?" asked Aldo. He looked at each of them and they remained silent. "Now we needn't be fussy. We'll find someone, give 'em some rude'mentary trainin' and send them off. How hard can it be to become a Natzee officer's personal secretary? Or become a servant in some rich Natzee's house-staff and gather information about other people? Women are supposed to be good at that sorta thing without trainin'."

"Lieutenant, at this time, we don't know ANY German speaking women in our agency or outside the agency that would remotely be suitable for such a dangerous mission," said Agent Dexter. "You are aware that those in the U.S. who speak fluent German are usually immigrants and we don't have the time to screen them properly to make sure they are trustworthy."

"Besides, even if we did have untrained, trustworthy, German speaking women, they wouldn't likely be willing to go," added Agent Franks.

What a tangle this was, thought Lt. Raine. He was about to suggest a crash recruiting campaign throughout the U.S. military when the Asst. Director spoke, "Hold on for a minute and let me think this through." He thoughtfully tapped his chin with his forefinger as the room fell silent. After a while, a smile crept onto his face. An evil smile. "Gentlemen, you're wrong. I know someone within our agency who speaks some German and I know just how to persuade her to go."

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"No."

"But think of the service you'd be doin' for yer country, Miss Lorenz," admonished Aldo. They had been at this persuasion business for a good 20 minutes. This assignment was beginning to give him a headache.

"No. I said no." Angelika was emphatic as she sat in the Asst. Director's office with her legs and arms crossed. These people were insane if they thought she would go to Nazi Germany on a suicide mission. How dare they even ask? She wasn't likely to find out anything useful anyway! They just wanted some patsy to go over there to appease the President and make it look like he was Doing Something important to help the Europeans. The mission was a charade to make him look good and she wanted no part of it.

Her face was flushed, her eyes were stormy, and her mouth formed a straight line. She looked rather formidable and sexy, thought Aldo. The part about being sexy he'd file away for later. He liked blonde women with long, thick, flowing hair; full, sensuous lips and deep blue eyes fringed with beautiful long, black lashes. A man could get lost in those eyes. Actually, he liked any pretty woman; he wasn't really that fussy. He was wondering if she was dating anyone when an annoying, wheedling voice broke into his thoughts.

"I told you you're wasting your time," said Mr. Forbes as he inspected his pudgy fingers. "This woman is a coward and she has no work ethic." And no sense of gratitude he thought, remembering how she refused his advances the past three months. He had given her this job and she owed him. The bitch is high and mighty, and deserves to be taken down a few notches. He was about to begin a verbal assault on his employee when Aldo slapped his hand down on Agent Bentson's desk with a loud bang.

"Shut yer mouth, Forbes, yer not helpin' here. We're not innerested in yer questionable opinions." Mr. Forbes fairly seethed as he glared at the Lieutenant, but he held his tongue. The Lieutenant looked tough, and angry. He could see the artery in Raine's neck pulsing above a wicked looking scar, and the calm, almost easy posture of a man who considered killing second nature. Raine's fingers rested lightly on an enormous knife.

Aldo knew the type of man Jake Forbes was and he was disgusted. Satisfied that the lewd dirt-bag was silenced, he turned his focus back on Angelika, and gave her an encouraging smile. Angelica was busy giving her boss a mean look so Aldo's best smile was wasted. He sighed. "Now Agent Bentson here tells me yer the only woman in his entire operation that speaks _some_ German. That right Bentson?"

"That is correct, Lieutenant," said the Asst. Director. He was self-possessed and calm. As calm as a coiled snake sleeping under a rock.

"I can speak some German, yes," sputtered Angelika, "but I don't know that much about Germany and how to blend in. I was born and raised here! And my education is in nursing, not espionage! At UIS, I'm just a secretary, for god sake, not an agent!" Her agitation caused a stray lock of hair to come loose from a bobby pin. It tickled her nose, increasing her agitation. She tossed her head irritably to get it away from her face and ended up shoving it behind an ear only to have it spring out again. Aldo wanted to tuck that baby away, himself, then forcefully reminded himself why he was there.

Asst. Director Bentson merely smiled a patronizing smile at Angelika, and then said, "I want everyone but Miss Lorenz and Lt. Raine to leave my office. Close the door behind you." There were some looks of confusion, but everyone complied until it was just the three of them. The Asst. Director's face became a mask and he gave Angelika a hard look. His next words had the impact of a freight train collision.

"Actually, Miss Lorenz, you can speak fluent German, with little or no trace of an American accent. Your parents, August and Margarethe, emigrated here from Augsburg, Germany in 1907. You were born in New York City in 1911 after your father established a rather successful textile mill similar to the one run by his family, or rather his older brother Richard, back in Europe. Your father's European family is very wealthy, by the way. Your mother is an Austrian aristocrat who had a brother, Baron Heinrich von Hagenauer. I believe he died, along with his son and direct heir, in a car accident 4 years ago. Tragic. As to whether you are familiar with German culture and can "fit in" as you put it, you moved in with your Uncle Richard and his family in Germany in 1929 to attend university where you studied music and classic literature. I believe you wanted to be a teacher before you wanted to become a nurse. However, being a nurse here in America would be more practical for you and would give you a slightly higher income. Your poor mother was disappointed that you didn't follow a more genteel path worthy of a highborn lady. She wanted you to continue your studies in music and literature, did she not?"

Angelika was so stunned, she couldn't speak. How did this man know so much about her and why? Fear formed in the pit of her stomach as she desperately tried to think of reasons this man would go through such lengths to learn all the details of her family history and her past.

Bentson's relentless barrage continued, "You should know plenty about German culture and society because you lived there until 1933, 4 years, 3 months to be exact. During that time, you lived a rather privileged life with your wealthy relatives and attended many social events. The circumstances under which you moved back to New York are somewhat, shall we say, mysterious, but it wasn't long after your return before the Depression took its toll on your father's investments and his factory, and he lost nearly everything. Your father, a now broken man, contracted grippe in 1936 and died, leaving you with a few of your father's bonds and a nearly defunct factory, which, by some miracle, you managed to sell. Profits from the sale went to pay off his many debts. You've been scrounging to support your mother and yourself ever since."

"YOU! How dare you!" Angelika cried with indignation and rage. "My life is NOT your business, _sir_. Where did you learn all this? You had no right! No right to pry in my affairs!"

"I had every right, Miss Lorenz," Bentson replied coolly. "I am in the intelligence business and I do have the right to know who is working for me. With all the sensitive information we handle on a daily basis, we can't have just anybody working at our agency now can we?" Again, he gave her that infuriating, patronizing smile. Angelika wanted to slap him.

"You never told me when I was hired that my life would be so scrutinized and, and…" Angelika struggled for the right word, "… memorized so well by you! I must protest."

She was standing now, with both fists balled up at her sides. If Asst. Director Mike Bentson were standing in front of her, Aldo thought he'd be in danger of a well directed right cross to the face. Not a ladylike move on her part, but for some reason, he liked the thought of it. Ah, hell, perhaps it was time to intervene.

"Now let me get this straight, Bentson," interrupted Aldo, "yer sayin' that Miss Lorenz is an American citizen with ties to Germany? And she can speak perfect Kraut? What 'bout her parents? They citizens, too?"

"Well, that's where this gets interesting, Lieutenant," said the Asst. Director.

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Angelika seethed. He knew everything about her past, including things she never told anyone. The question was, how much did he know about her time in Germany? Too much, she thought with a grimace. Too much! How could this effrontery get any worse?

"Margarethe and August Lorenz applied for U.S. citizenship and the application was approved," said Agent Bentson. "Unfortunately, however, the paperwork was misfiled…lost, as it were. There is no evidence now that they even applied for citizenship."

"That's absurd!" said Angelika. "How could the government just 'lose' my parents' approved citizenship papers? Even if they somehow 'misplaced' them, my mother has a copy of the approval papers in our apartment."

"They are irrelevant," responded Agent Bentson, "they are invalid now. Some might even say they are forged. That could prove troublesome for your mother."

"Troublesome?" cried Angelika. "You mean disastrous! You are lying. I don't believe any of this!"

"So what's yer point?" asked Aldo. He wouldn't put it past the Asst. Director to have engineered this whole thing to set Angelika up. The man was quite smug and sure of himself and Aldo was irritated by that. Aldo did not like arrogant people and he certainly didn't like them taking advantage of innocent, beautiful young women.

"I don't lie," said Agent Bentson with some indignation. "Oh, I could make the problem go away IF Angelika decides to cooperate, otherwise, we'll have to deport poor Margarethe back to Germany. Or Austria. Take your pick."

"You can't do that! She has nowhere to go, no means of support. Her brother and nephew were killed. Most of her other family was wiped out during the flu epidemic and father's family would never take her in. Not after what happened 7 years ago. Besides, there's a war going on in case you haven't noticed!" cried Angelika, who was now close to tears.

Bentson laughed. The bastard actually laughed. "I pretty much can do anything I want, Miss Lorenz. I've got many friends in immigration, naturally, and they are always willing to throw me a favor or two."

Aldo couldn't stand it. He may be tough and all that, but he couldn't stand there and watch her cry, especially with such injustice directed at her. "Really, Bentson, I don' think this is necessary. Jus' let the girl live in peace with her mother and we'll recruit a suitable candidate somewhere else."

"As you so aptly stated earlier, Lieutenant, time is of the essence. The President will not wait," said the Asst. Director. "Now Miss Lorenz here has an option. She can do the mission. She can take a three-week crash-training course in England with you and your men, during which we can put together her false documents. Then she'll travel to Switzerland where she will board a train and ride into Germany where she will meet up with our contact."

The man was right, time was short and this woman was more than qualified, or will be after some training. However, Aldo just didn't like the way she was bullied, no _coerced_, into going. It wasn't as if she was going to a garden party. This was dangerous work and the Nazi's weren't kind to spies.

"Do you have an answer for us Miss Lorenz?" asked Agent Bentson. "If you wish, we can give you tonight to think about it."

"Time to think about what? I have no choice. I have to go. And while I'm there, you can burn in hell." Angelika looked him in the eyes with such hate he could almost feel it.

"I probably will," he chuckled. "Well, Lieutenant, there you have it. We'll make up the necessary paperwork and send her with you to London."

Swell, thought Aldo. He had mixed feelings about this whole affair. If anything happened to her, he would feel responsible somehow. If anything happened to her, he would make sure Bentson paid dearly for it. Where he grew up, they had ways of dealing with coyotes like him.

"Miss Lorenz, you may leave now. Go home and make preparations and say nothing about this to anyone," said Agent Bentson. He seemed rather pleased with himself. As an afterthought he added, "Your mother will be well taken care of while you are gone. If anything should happen to you while you are in Germany, we will see to it she is provided for."

Should she thank him for that? Did she trust him to keep his word? She said nothing. Angelika was too confused and stunned over the morning's events. The realization hit her hard that she had just agreed to what appeared to be a suicide mission. Yet she loved her mother dearly and would do anything to protect her.

Angelika turned around and looked with bleak eyes at Aldo, and then she headed for the door, feeling numb. The anger, the outrage suddenly left her feeling cold and empty inside. Was this how death row inmates felt when they learned there would be no more appeals? It was all she could do to make her way to the coat rack in the main office, put her coat on, and leave the building for home. She saw Maria look up from her typewriter appearing confused at first, then concerned when she began to assume the worst: Angelika got fired. If only it were that minor. If only. She would probably never see Maria again.

Aldo did not look kindly at Agent Bentson once Angelika left the office, and he spoke his mind. "For the record, I don' like this. It's wrong. The people I recruit for my missions are always volunteers. It works better that way because the missions are more likely to succeed."

"Oh come now, Lieutenant," chided the Asst. Director. "Despite your feelings toward me right now, you are still willing to take advantage of this woman."

"I wouldn't exactly put it that way."

Agent Bentson shrugged. "However you would put it, you are still going to train her and put her in harms way in order to appease your superiors, are you not?"

Aldo didn't respond, but he was thinking murder. He was also thinking he had to find some way of protecting Angelika while she was in Germany. For the life of him, he couldn't come up with a plan just yet. Bentson kept talking.

"Let me tell you a secret, Lieutenant. I hate German immigrants. They abandon their own nation like traitors, coming to these shores, taking American jobs. Most cannot even speak English. So many of them live in this country now that it sickens me. Think about it Lieutenant. How many are Gestapo spies? How many are Fascist sympathizers? Who is loyal to America and who is not? Those are questions that desperately need answers, answers I am very interested in."

Agent Bentson sighed and leaned back in his chair. He placed his hands behind his head, closed his eyes, and smiled. "As far as Miss Lorenz, my feeling is that if she provides us with the information we need, that's wonderful. If she is captured and killed within the first week, I couldn't care less. Mission be damned. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she betrays this country, in which case, I'll take it upon myself, personally, to find her and take her life. I may even take advantage of her in other ways, first. She is quite attractive, after all.

"Did you see the look on her face when I revealed her family history? Priceless! Setting her up like this was most gratifying, Lieutenant. Thank you."

Aldo looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Sick, twisted, cruelty played within this man's soul and he would have none of it.

"You finished, Bentson? Because I have a warnin' for you. If anything happens to Miss Lorenz while she's doin' our dirty work, I won' take it kindly. If she so much as stubs her toe, some Natzees are gonna pay and so are you. Another thing. You even think of killin' her for any reason, you better consider this: I am relentless. I am without mercy. I _will_ find you and see that _yer_ death is most unpleasant. Do I make myself clear?" Lt. Raine's entire demeanor was one of easy confidence and calm fortitude. He had no fear of the man before him and he meant every word spoken. Agent Bentson, however, didn't know Aldo Raine well enough to think anything of it. To him, Raine was just another uneducated redneck. A mere soldier, just like all the rest.

"Your threats don't scare me, Lieutenant. There is nothing more to say. I also believe you have overstayed your welcome, as our business is beyond its conclusion," said the Asst. Director with a smirk. "Agent Dexter will show you out."

"Don' bother, Bentson, I can find my own way out," said Raine. "And for yer sake, you better hope you can, too."


End file.
